


a distant shore

by Nebbles



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: This wasn't the way any of them intended to return home from the Dragon's Gate. Eliwood's father was coming home, but not in the way he should have.Hector laments on how he failed to bring home Marquess Pherae, and how helpless he feels in comforting his best friend.
Relationships: Eliwood & Hector & Lyndis (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Fire Emblem Writer's Zine





	a distant shore

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Fire Emblem's Writer Zine, which I was honored to be a part of! The works of my fellow talented writers are featured in the collection, so check them out (and the zine overall) as well! It's been so long since I've gotten to write for Blazing Blade, which was one of my first Fire Emblem games I've ever played. My heart will always, always come back to Elibe.

Hector had never been fond of death and all that came after it, and he regarded it with a bitter huff into the still night air, tickled by the ocean breeze. They’d gone to the Dread Isle with something resembling hope; that Eliwood’s father wouldn’t return to Pherae to be lowered into an early grave. When his parents passed, it had hurt him less, despite the pallid nature of their skin, gaunt and tight pulled over their bones, like those creeps Nergal had skulking around in the shadows.

Squeamish was a poor choice of words to define him, given the way he wore his scars and bloodstained armor like a trophy after each battle, the way he would boast his worn axe with pride. 

Yet when Elbert bled out onto Eliwood’s armor, as crimson clashed upon the sickly green stone of the Dragon’s Gate, Hector felt his stomach.

Sure, he’d seen Eliwood cry before. The two of them grew up together, which meant Hector had seen a few sniffles and sobs over scraped knees in times past. But was that comparable to what he’d seen — what he’d  _ heard  _ — when those cries echoed uncomfortably in his ears? Even now, as everyone could only pretend to ignore the sobbing from the lower decks? 

Eliwood hadn’t left his room for what felt like months, even if they’d been drifting towards the Elibean mainland for a few days by now. The plates of food left by the closed door remained untouched, cold as ice, cold as his father’s corpse—

Yeah, he wasn’t continuing that train of thought.

Dark magic was nasty stuff, Hector thought, even if it had done the job to preserve Elbert’s corpse from rotting. Canas had offered to help, to prevent the sights and smells from haunting the boat, and so the Marquess could be buried with a sense of honor. Eliwood mumbled his agreement with a polite thank you, and he hadn’t been spotted since.

Hector had tried to get into Eliwood’s room for some time; he’d knocked on it, stood outside in silence as if that’d fling the door wide open. It was when Lyn dragged him away (somehow, crivens was that woman strong) Hector decided to get some rest himself. Did he want to argue with her that Eliwood needed him? That he couldn’t fail him now? Absolutely, and he was ready to do so until they were both blue in the face.

It would have been the last thing Eliwood needed to hear, they had realized, and Hector gave another huff as he marched upstairs to get some fresh air. 

Impatient fingers continued to drum against the boat’s ledge as energy swirled around him with nowhere to go. No training dummies to throw his axe against, no enemies to fell with a mighty swing. Hector knew he was a restless man, but he knew how to deal with it, and the lack of proper outlets did nothing more than frustrate him further.

Gods, he hated boats. 

Soft footsteps interrupted his uncomfortable thoughts, and Hector glanced to the side to see Lyn, exhaustion in her eyes. Her actions mirrored his own, arms folded over the guardrails, frown etched into her features. 

“I take it you aren’t here to yell at me this time.” Neither of them could sleep, it seemed. “I promise I didn’t go try and talk to Eliwood again.”

“Do you really think I came up here to argue?” Lyn had enough energy to offer him an annoyed stare. “I’m just as worried as you are, Hector. When I lost my parents, I took it as a resolve to get stronger. To avenge my tribe.”

“Eliwood isn’t the vengeful type, Lyn.” He was too soft-hearted, and in a way, it was something Hector envied. “He’s never been one to handle stress well.”

“He barely ate on the way here.” Hector gave a deeper frown, eyes back on the ocean. Everyone noticed, didn’t they? “And now he isn’t taking his meals at all. Marcus keeps dropping them off, and they just go untouched.”

Tired of fidgeting with his hands, Hector folded them together over the railing. “If he can’t get through to Eliwood, it makes me wonder what we’re even able to do.”

“I’m sure there’s something. I refuse to believe we’re helpless in this.” One of Lyn’s hands drifted to his shoulder. “Eliwood’s done so much for the both of us. It’d be unfair if we never repaid his kindness.”

Another sigh left him. “I was supposed to help him find his father. I know Elbert’s death isn’t my fault, and Eliwood isn’t the type to blame others, but I feel guilty.” The more he spoke of it, the stupider it began to sound.

“Eliwood would never blame either of us.” A soft breeze ran through their hair. “He’s going to blame himself instead.”

“He should be blaming those dastards instead,” Hector complained. “It’s not like he’s the one who stabbed him.”

Silence came over the pair once more, neither in the mood to steer themselves in circles over their closest friend’s pain. Only the waves accompanied them, more welcome than the unfavorable mix of heartache and anger that continued to ebb and flow. 

However, it was rare for Hector to stand comfortably in silence, especially when angry. With no axe in hand to swing, he balled his hands into fists and slammed them into the railing with a loud grumble.

“Blast this infernal ship!” Was it an odd decision to bring blame to the vessel offering the army passage? “There’s nothing we can do here!”

“And do you think swinging your axe around is going to make anyone feel better?” Damn, Lyn knew him startlingly well by now. “Sticking it in a random soldier isn’t going to help Eliwood.”

Hector frowned deep enough to leave lines in his face. “If I wanted a lecture, I’d listen to Oswin.” Or have Uther yell at him about how he snuck out of Ostia and stuck his nose into a messy situation only to have blood coat his hands.

Lyn looked as if she wanted to argue yet again, and heaved a sigh as she bit back a response. “Eliwood wouldn’t want to see us like this.”

“I’m aware.” Hector looked to the sky this time, as if it’d offer much of a different view. The stars were nice, but he was also sick of them as well; he just wasn’t a nature-loving type of guy. “...I can’t let him down again. I know he isn’t the type of man to be disappointed in others like that, but I promised I’d help him bring his father home.” 

Was he talking in circles at this point? A dull headache began to nip at the back of his skull, pulsing in rhythm with the waves that lapped against the boat.

“Let Lord Eliwood work through his grief.” An unexpected voice startled them both, and Hector almost gave himself whiplash as he turned his head around to see Marcus appear from the deck below. “I assure you he holds no ill will towards either of you.” 

“Did he speak with you?” Lyn turned around in full, unable to hide a hopeful expression. “Has he touched his dinner at all?”

“I managed to coax a word or two from him, yes.” Hector wondered what magical powers Marcus had to possess. “His plate was as full as ever. I do want him to eat, but I would also rather he not fall ill.” 

The idea of Eliwood being sick over the railing was a rather unpleasant image, one that made Hector’s face crinkle. Ugh. “What did he end up saying?”

A rare smile crossed Marcus’ face. “That he is coming to speak with you.” 

“Huh?” Not the most eloquent reply, but Hector’s never been a man to conduct himself with any modicum of grace. “No insult to your skills, but how in the seven hells did you manage that?”

“Hector!” Lyn groaned as she placed her hands on her hips with a frown. “That’s how you’re going to thank him?” 

“I take no offense,” Marcus waved a hand in the air, “but you two are a part of this tragedy as much as the Pheraen family are. Given you are also his closest friends, I reminded him that he may always rely on you.”

Hector couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d heard Marcus go on like this. Similar to Oswin, they were retainers of few words, and spoke with their actions, their duties. It was a shame a horrible death had brought this on, but all Hector could focus on was the chance to speak with Eliwood for the first time in days.

“We’ll do our best to help him.” A smile graced Lyn’s face while Hector continued to ruminate over what to even say, to  _ do.  _ “Get some rest. I promise we’ll take care of Eliwood.” 

With a bow, Marcus excused himself below deck. Silence crept upon the pair like a cold sea breeze. 

Given how he usually lent himself to the side of rough and tumble, any words to say were lost upon him. He could hear Uther’s voice now: how he never spent much time thinking, and it was going to haunt him in the near future. By the look on Lyn’s face, she wasn’t doing much better. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, expression uncertain, gaze to the floorboards. 

It made sense. At the end of the day, they were children who had tried to bury their grief. Hector had always hoped it’d never take root in Eliwood; he didn’t deserve it.

No one did, really. 

“You’ll be fine,” Lyn whispered as they heard footsteps. “Let him talk to us first.” 

Hector wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t think Eliwood would look great, given the circumstances, but he hardly thought the man would look like death warmed over. Bags under his eyes were an indicator rest was a stranger to him, a worn expression etched into his face. Breath held tight in his chest, Hector only heard the waves in his ears with each step that Eliwood took forward. 

With a patient hand on his forearm, Hector waited.

“Ah… forgive me for worrying you both.” Eliwood’s voice sounded so small. “You two have been doing so much for me, and I have done nothing but ignore your kindness.”

Hector almost opened his mouth before realizing there was more to say, and that Eliwood still needed time. All he could do was offer a nod to show he was listening intently to each word (as if he would ever do otherwise). 

“You two did what you could to help me find my father.” A slow, almost cautious step forward. “At the very least, I am… I am fortunate I was able to see him before his death. While I fear my mother’s reaction, I…”

“If you need us at your side, just say the word.” Lyn patted his arm, and drew him in closer with a patient smile. “I know she’ll be relieved to see you well.”

Eliwood’s gaze lowered. “I promised I would bring back Father.”

So he  _ was _ blaming himself, and Hector’s worst fear had been realized. Not only was he stressing himself to borderline illness, Eliwood had fallen under the assumption his own mother would bemoan him for his father’s death. Lady Elenaora was a kind woman, and treasured her dear family more than the morning sun. To think in his grief, Eliwood dared to forget that, to assign himself blame…

Hector stepped forward, and brought his closest friend into a tight embrace. “This isn’t your fault. It never was.”

He made an attempt to mask it, but there was a hitch in Eliwood’s voice as he buried his head against Hector’s arm. “I… I never said—”

“You think I don’t know how your mind works by now?” Ever since they took each other’s hands that day, Hector argued it linked them together in a myriad of ways. He drew a hand through his hair, the other resting against the base of his neck. “That dastard Nergal robbed your father of his life,  _ not  _ you. Whatever I have to do to make you believe that, I will.”

Lyn placed a gentle arm on Eliwood’s arm with a concerned gaze. “Your parents would never blame you. They’d be happier knowing you’re alive.” A moment of silence. “I know mine are with Father Sky and Mother Earth, blessed that I am well.”

Hector cast her a thoughtful gaze, a silent thank you for additional comforts. Not that he doubted she’d add anything, but he knew it was still difficult for her to speak of her parents. “If anyone was going to blame you for this, I’d give them a nice close up of my axe.”

Something between a laugh and sob left Eliwood as he buried his head in deeper. It wasn’t the best sentiment to give, but it began to crack the shell his best friend had surrounded himself in. “Hector, please…”

“I think what he’s attempting to say is that no matter what, Eliwood, we’re here to support you.” Either Lyn acknowledged his comment and ignored it, or decided it was passable, since it earned a laugh. “And if you still need to cry, there’s no shame in doing so.”

It hurt to listen to Eliwood’s cries, how raspy and worn his throat already was from previous instances and a lack of water, but it was preferable to Eliwood shutting down completely. Each shudder caused Hector to hold onto him tighter, gaze set toward the distant horizon. He had to believe something good was waiting for them,  _ something  _ to give Eliwood a reason to have hope once more. 

Deep down, a part of him was not looking forward to the lecture he’d get from Uther, the danger he put himself in, and whatever other lovely anecdotes he cared to add. 

Whatever. He’d stare a stupid dragon in the face if he had to, were it for Eliwood’s sake. All this sacrifice had to be worth something. To why Leila had to die, and now Lord Elbert… there may not be a proper reason. All Hector could do was continue to grow stronger, and fight for those he cared for. For Oswin, for Lyn, for all of Ostia…

And for Eliwood. 


End file.
